Where Panthers Roam
by Roanelle
Summary: Guenhwyvar, dedicated elf-guard of Roan, elven city, engages her mortal enemy for revenge she finds herself ensconced inside another plane of existence in a form that is not her own. With the help of Drizzt and sheer luck she begins to find herself again.


Before I begin I realized that I must inform you that I actually put up this work about four or five years ago under the name "Freedom From Capture". Due to the fact that my vocabulary and style were rather shallow back then I have deleted the original and am re-writing it. I hope that you enjoy this much more (I certainly do!). If you'd like to review I'll take anything you've got, but for the most part, just enjoy it :)

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><p>The elf silently slipped among the jagged rocks of the mountain with a grace almost unmatched by her race. The only clue that could give her away was the light of the moon upon her pale face though she was cautious to keep her light skin covered from its seeking rays. This intruder was too perceptive to be taking any chances. The elf-woman, a guard of Roan, a kingdom of elves ruled by Lord Merriner in the far east, had been standing watch this night when a deep shadow of evil had passed afore her gaze to the south. Though usually she would not have gone alone to investigate such a disturbance, she knew this threat, and the anger and grief that it had caused to boil within her threw all thoughts of sense to the wind and replaced them with a single thought: revenge.<p>

Nearing her target as it climbed down the mountain towards the southern wood, the elf silently waited until the menace passed her by, not even registering the presence of the moon elf watching her. The elf could have, at any time, shot an arrow from her quiver straight through the back of her impending victim, but this was too personal. With a movement as quick as lightening the elf launched herself, almost cat-like, short sword and dagger poised to kill, at the shadow!

A sharp yelp from her target was quickly muffled as the elf held her dagger painfully against the soft skin of a white neck.

"Nariyl," the elf choked, fighting her anger for some sense of control, "May your corpse rot in the nine hells!" The dagger came high in the air, its point gleaming in the moonlight, but it never found its mark. The elf had paused with a hint of love-filled remorse just long enough for Nariyl to start the beginnings of a spell. Her eyes, lifeless and cold, held fast the elf's gaze, effectively freezing her body. The attacker was now the victim. Nariyl frantically searched her pockets for an object, anything really, with which to complete the spell. She really had no want to murder her sister (she held too much potential concerning battle) and so had deduced to simply conserve her within an object to be called upon when needed, to bend her existence to her will.

Nariyl's chanting had reached a crescendo and neared the end of the spell. In a last desperate attempt to break free of the enchanting gaze, her older sister called upon her inner strength and moved a fraction of an inch. It was almost pitifully miniscule, but to Nariyl it proved fatal. Her concentration broke for a moment and she mispronounced a syllable! Horrified, but unable to break-off the chanting for the magic within her would not stop flowing, she was forced to see the spell to its end. This one mispronunciation, however, erupted near the end, and began to consume both the target and the caster!

"NO!" Nariyl shouted in denial, "Damn you! Damn you, Guen!" and with that she was consumed in a swirling mass of purple mist.

The same mist then came for Guenhwyvar's prone form but as she descended into its depths she felt a curious sensation, almost as if her body were losing is compound and sure enough, it was shifting! Guen, elf-guard of Roan, loyal servant to Merriner, started to sprout black fur! Her face contorted in a silent scream as her features elongated and reformed. Fingernails grew and thickened, bones realigned with scrapes and tears of muscle and tissue, and organs shifted and grew to different sizes and shapes to fit the new body they resided in.

A lone, painful, and agonized roar erupted across stars of the astral plane.

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><p>Not far off, several of Guenhwyvar's comrades had heard the confrontation and the chanting of their exiled cousin. They rushed full speed towards the sound but only found a receding mist and a smooth, onyx, panther figurine at their feet. The elven guards shared horrified glances, unable to digest what had happened.<p>

"Guenhwyvar?" whispered the sentinel who held the figurine.

Within a moment there was, again, the purple mist and in its midst arose a shocked and groaning panther.

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><p>Guenhwyvar awoke from her revelation with a start, her name was being called by that damned lie of a drow wizard, Masoj Hun'ett. Reluctantly she felt the compelling force of Nariyl's spell calling her to the material plane. She faced the murderer with resigned contempt.<p>

"I need your help on patrol today…" he muttered.

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><p>Guen hated the drow. Not only was it because her true racial origin battled everything that the drow were and stood for, but because she had been servant to three drow for over seven centuries now and she was becoming damn sick of it! Each time she had passed from one drow's possession to another's it had been through lie and deceit, never an honorable challenge. In fact, Guenhwyvar had lived within the bowels of the earth for so long now that she had almost completely lost hope for herself and had resigned to the fact that she was an instrument of destruction and nothing more.<p>

Then she had met Drizzt. She remembered their meeting clearly, well, not the introduction per se, but the exact moment when their eyes looked into one another. She saw, to her immense disbelief, a loving, compassionate, and honorable drow. His purple eyes seared into her heart in that moment of connection as they realized themselves to be in a similar predicament. During their time together out on patrol their scouting positions usually let them be alone with just one another and Guen knew that if she could choose any master in all of the planes of existence it would be this one drow, this Drizzt Do'Urden.

Their companionship grew over the course of many months and Guen's sense of self-being returned ten-fold with her new friend. The future became brighter. Then in a series of twisted events beyond their control the companions found themselves running for their lives through the relentless Underdark. Guenhwyvar, though growing stronger and even defeating the compelling commands of her master to aid Drizzt, began to fear for her friend. He was losing himself. He called for her less and less, and with each time she did appear she wished more and more that she could break the magical barrier and lend a friendly voice.

The fates were cruel, but they could also heal.

After many strange adventures with the deep gnomes, Clacker, and an un-dead Zaknafein, the two companions, Drizzt and Guenhwyvar, strengthened and resolved to live upon the surface, drew into the sunlight.

For Guenhwyvar it was pure, victorious bliss! The sun radiated through her dark fur for the first time in several centuries and warmed her heart to a point of bursting. Drizzt fared less-well but he was so determined to succeed at what he thought to be his last hope that he would not let the sun deter him until he felt almost consumed with anguish at its stinging brightness.

Guen had once more made it to the surface and with her true friend she could, finally, begin to unravel the mystery of her existence. The day dawned brightly on the beginning of the two companions' journey.


End file.
